


Vesper Lynde

by merkintosh



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merkintosh/pseuds/merkintosh
Summary: Susan finds herself inexplicably drawn to Rayna even after she's been arrested and jailed. It's a problem.





	Vesper Lynde

Susan doesn't get why so many people at the Agency think she's hard. Especially after she puts a hundred bucks into Rayna's commissary account at the medium security prison she was placed in for copping a plea deal. Only 28 months and a fine that most likely barely touched on the amount she had in one offshore Caribbean account all in exchange for five home addresses for some Al Qaeda terrorists that Susan could have pulled up off of Google. Susan was a melted marshmallow of soft; it was pathetic.

“You shouldn't have, Copper,” Rayna coos over the phone when she calls Susan. She's in Porto-Novo breaking up a bird smuggling ring. They were stuffing blood diamonds inside of parrots which was so unnecessary. The poor little things weren't handling the stress well and insisted on flying into Susan's hair. She was just trying to save them and not get her eyes scratched out by shitty little bird beaks.

“It's Cooper, Rayna, Cooper. And you're right; I didn't have to—I wanted to, because I am a nice person.” Susan felt flustered and knew her face was bright red. She could feel a bird shit on her hair part. “You're an asshole but that doesn't mean I want someone in there to make you their prison bitch for the next two years. Figured you could purchase cigarettes and use them to trade for a shiv or a shank or something. Put them out in someone's eye, establish that you're not to be messed with. Burn your hair off, I don't know.”

Rayna hums into the receiver and let's Susan stew until she wants to punch herself in the face. “How are you so oblivious, Susan? You're such an idiot.” 

Rayna hung up. Susan pulled back her cell phone and stared at it. Seriously? Fuck her.

Fuck Rayna.

~~~~~

Two days later, Rayna calls her again: this time while Susan is doing a track and watch of a Turkmen vice minister while he tries to start a heroin chain of supply through Dubai. “Well, Susan, if you really didn't want to hear about my time in this ghastly place you shouldn't have opened up contact first. It really is the absolute pits here. I'm not even in a proper Virginia, just somewhere adjacent—who knew such a place existed.”

Susan was trying to stay calm, but she's pretty sure she just got made by two of the minister's biggest bodyguards and was desperately trying to look like she meant to race into a dead end alley. Everything in Dubai looked like it had been shit out of a Lush glitter bath bomb and then scrubbed to within an inch of its life. How was she going to find something to hit these guys with in fucking Disneyland? 

“I really don't have time for this Rayna--” one of the thugs slapped the hand out of her phone. Susan turned into his body and punched him in the sternum, then the kidneys; her leg kicking out to gut punch the other bodyguard before he could get any closer.

A litany of possible injuries she was inflicting ran side-along in her head with the constant stream of variations of strikes and kicks she could do. A waterfall of choice, violence and pain all part of the dance that her mind and body were so willing and thrilled to do. 

Five minutes later, when both goons were laying groaning on the street incapable of attacking her again or possibly of even eating solid foods ever again—oh God—Susan huffed and puffed as she leaned down to pick up her phone.

“And then Wanda is absolutely insistent that only she gets to braid my hair, but she's completely awful at it; it just won't do,” Who was Wanda? Was Rayna seeing someone already? Was Rayna someone's bitch? She's only been in the can three weeks!

Susan tilted her head back and worked to catch her breath while Rayna went on and on about stupid shit like combs and other mermaid type things. “Is this code? Is this some sort of fucking prison code or slang? Are you in danger, Rayna? I know morse code, do you know morse code?”

There was a long silence over the line. 

“I honestly don't know how you have survived for this long Susan.” Rayna hung up. 

Susan knocked her head against the pristine glittery marble wall of the fucking alleyway.

~~~~

Susan was going to get to the bottom of this. She was going to get Rayna to stop calling her at the worst possible times. She had saved birds' assholes, she had stopped drug dealers, she was a good person. 

She was in West Virginia at a table across from Rayna and she was so fucking stupid and soft. She was a marshmallow woman and was going to die from the heat of her own embarrassment and shame. Just a straight up sticky, melt-y death.

Rayna somehow made the orange jumpsuit look good. Hers was somehow form-fitting, a ridiculous applique heart stitched onto one shoulder. Her hair was still huge and luscious, she looked like a fucking prison bitch Barbie doll.

“I didn't know you could sew,” Susan said, the words tumbling out of her mouth without any control from her brain. She could visualize the train wreck as it happened. Rayna's eyes were sparkling with sadistic glee. “I mean, I didn't know you could really do anything other than pose. I always figured your arms would fall off if you used one of your atrophied muscles. Just fucking fall off at the shoulder joint like a doll's arm all bloop! And yeah. You can sew. That's great.”

Rayna's eyes were glittering. She looked like she should be on top of a unicorn, flipping her hair from side to side like a demented Dolly Parton impersonator. “I don't know how to sew, Coop. Melissa did it.”

“Melissa.”

“Yes. She rooms with Wanda.” 

Susan nodded, her fingers rubbing against her own mouth like they could stop her from word vomiting some more. Wrong. “So Wanda and Melissa are your glam squad or something? Is this a prison or a summer camp for terrorist teens? They're playing my little fucking ponies with you after the camp counselors banned you from the pool? They're just giving you shit for no good reason?”

“Of course not,” Rayna said, her sweet little girl mouth in a perfect 'o', “I paid them with cigarettes and noodle packages.”

Susan didn't know what to say.

“The only person giving things out for free here is well. You.” Rayna had a perfectly sharp talon tipped against her lower lip; little tap taps as she talked that made her mouth puff up and redden. 

Susan put her hands flat against the table and closed her eyes. Something about talking to Rayna always made her blood rush to the surface. She could feel it in her ears, on her face; even the sharp tingly flow to her breasts that made her nipples harden. She never knew how to feel or think about Rayna anymore. It was easier when she was the enemy and all Susan had to do was push her around in circles until she was too dizzy to think. But here, in butthole West Virginia, it was just Susan being easy mark Susan in front of Rayna: a flop villain with useless skills, twig limbs, and massive daddy issues.

Susan had to rely on her training to persevere here. She didn't have any good sayings from her mom that covered this kind of scenario. No sound advice on what to do when you can't seem to stop hanging out with a bubble-brained manic pixie villainess. Rick might have some idea but it probably would have involved plastic surgery or mind control suppositories which was always highly suspect in Susan's mind. This time, Susan was on her own and she had done a pretty good job before on her own.

She could do this.

“Look, Rayna. All I did was toss a few twenties in your account. Your family's toast and I murdered all of your bodyguards and staff. It's a little pathetic, how you have no one really and ok; it's also a whole lot your fucking fault since you're a useless brat who has her head shoved so far up her own butt that you can see your tiny shriveled raisin of a grinch heart. However. I don't hate you. And you have your uses.”

Rayna had both hands on the table, her long fingernails edging towards Susan's hand. Her smile was small and dainty, her lower lip two seconds away from a pout and a perfect shade of pink. “Hmm. I guess I don't hate you either, Susan.”

“Seriously?” Susan asked. She watched as Rayna's fingernails spidered closer to her side of the table. 

“You are such a nice person. I can trust you.” Rayna's nails were tapping against Susan's hand. It was gentle little pokes, almost a polite entreating for entry. Susan was having a hard time catching her breath.

“I will definitely be super bored after two years here in next Virginia. It's only been one month and I've already set up a passable network of associates here to handle my needs. Just one month and some noodles, cigarettes and maxi pads and I'm top of the heap. It's cliché.” 

“Rayna--” Susan tried to interrupt.

“But maybe if you stick with me I can become a better person before I get out,” Susan never wanted to tug on Rayna's hair more than in this moment. “You could mold me into someone nice and sweet like you.”

“Or I could tattle on you and your girl scout camp friends here and they can stick you in isolation for two years; just you and the darkness until you're fat from prison goop made of carbs and ground cockroaches and your hair is falling out from lack of vitamin D. Guards will hose you down weekly with de-louser and water so cold your nipples turn into diamonds and fall off from frostbite. And then you would come out after two years: bald, fat and nipple-less with the same hairstyle as a Fransiscan monk.” Susan was on a roll now, the heat in her chest and her brain steaming out as she ranted at Rayna.

As Rayna looked at her glittering eyes while taking quick little breaths that made her body tremble in her nasty orange jumpsuit, fingernails tapping at Susan's knuckles like little fairies dancing on a flower. “You could do that, Cooper.”

Susan nodded dumbly. She fell into a trap somewhere, somehow, and she didn't know how to get out. All she could think to do right now was get away. “I gotta go, Rayna.”

Rayna dropped her hand on top of Susan's, Frightened, Susan pulled away from her. The loss of the near insignificant weight of her bird bones startled Susan a little. 

Susan hustled to re-arrange her disheveled clothes as she waited for the guards to open the door. From the side, she could see Rayna still sitting looking like a shivering bunny. 

“I'll see you soon, Susan!” Rayna said as Susan finally managed to scamper out of the room and out of the prison block. It wasn't until she was holed up in her dingy motel room, freshly showered and sitting on top of the most questionable duvet she had ever seen in her life that Susan was able to block the image of Rayna's tiny pretty body out of her head. That Susan could finally relax after months of missions on top of missions where everyone was monitoring her ever free moment. 

It was finally her chance to bang one out alone but every movement of her hand reminded her of Rayna's fingernails tapping tapping tapping as Susan tried to not think about her skinny arms and pretty little tits. 

Susan was so fucked.


End file.
